A Stinging Rebuke

You ever hear that sexual joke about how sticks and stones can break my bones but whips and chains excite me? Yeah I've never felt that whips or chains were that exciting, they hurt, both in unique ways and never in a fun way. I was hanging from a hook in Rojoves tent.  Why he had a tent set up with a beam strong enough to not only support a hook, but a person hanging from it? Well I'll just leave that up to your imagination (don't think too hard but I believe the word rhymes with Morture).

Rojoves command tent was actually decorated pretty lavishly, a large bed, a nice wood desk, various coats and other clothing options hung on racks, he even had a large armoire.  Honestly I felt sorry for whoever had to drag all this garbage around with him wherever he went.  I'm sure they felt like a real valuable member of the army. I was left to hang around for a day, I could hear troops moving back and forth outside muttering one garbage word or another.  I had one guard at the front of the tent, though that could have just been the normal guard for Rojoves tent independent of me being and occupant in it.

"Lorentino sorry I left you hanging, had business you understand." His tone was playful, the whip that ended in three sections with stones at the end of each said, his play would not be to my benefit.

"I'm just glad you could fit me into your schedule." The hardest part about being hung off the ground by your arms? Being thirsty, its weird, I always get thirsty (lets ignore the fact this happens enough that I can have a statement about whats the worst thing about it).  Rojove whipped me, the stones drug across my chest and tickled my ribs like a piano of pain. "I'm sorry I missed the question."

"There wasn't a question, I'm not here to interrogate you, or hear your lies, this is purely for me." Another strike, I tried not to cry out, but honestly my ribs hurt even before the whipping.  He whipped me like this for what felt like an hour but was probably only a few minutes. Sweat had accumulated on his brow when he finished, hung the whip up near his armoire and walked off to wherever he went when he wasn't at his tent (I was a little creeped out I was apparently in his personal quarters, though he hadn't slept there in the day I'd been hanging around). After Rojove left a maid came in, I figured she was there to clean his bed or but no she was there to wash my wounds in a solution that felt like liquid fire.  I was starting to wonder why this seemed so familiar when the memories of the ambassador tickled at the back of my mind, he too had suffered like this until I ended him. I'm sure somewhere a god laughed at the situation.  And so my days went, I'd get whipped Rojove would get aroused and the maid would clean the wounds.  I tell you have to say my Ronerawth vacation? Totally sucked, would not recommend.